


Flowers Only Die

by Unfair_Verona



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Immortality, Light Dom/sub, Mirror Sex, Mythology - Freeform, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Spanking, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfair_Verona/pseuds/Unfair_Verona
Summary: He talked about gods like he understood them, like one day she would understand them, too.





	Flowers Only Die

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure why exactly I wrote this, it was just an idea that kept bothering me. And because smut is always a good idea.

His mind, at first, had been utterly consumed with destruction. Punishment. He’d been plotting, all those years in his cell, biding his time. And then he’d come to learn about the existence of a girl, a mere girl, just like him. In all the time that Adam had lived, he’d met many others with extraordinary abilities, but never the same as him. He’d assumed that he was simply the only one, and had come to terms with that long ago. But now, things had changed. He found her file, devoured it, learning everything he could. The golden-haired girl in the picture smiled sweetly up at him, and suddenly there was a strange feeling squirming behind his ribs, something new. He had a new reason to be free.

 

X

 

He knew her name, her real name. That was Claire’s first indication that something was off. “Who are you?” she demanded, and Adam could see that she was about to bolt. 

“I’m like you,” he said. “I can help you.” In order to illustrate his point, he pulled out a small knife. Her eyes widened, she panicked, yet remained still. He dragged the blade slowly along the underside of his arm, and watched the changing expressions play over her face, the widening of her eyes. She was listening, now.

“Who are you?” she said again, some breathlessness to the words.

Adam held out a hand to her. “Come with me,” he said, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

 

X

 

Claire had been with him for weeks, they were staying in a large house on the outskirts of Seattle. She didn’t know who owned it, and didn’t bother to ask. Adam had promised that her family would be safe. He explained that he was trying to take down the Company, and had spun the story to make himself seem like the well-meaning hero who’d been duped by an evil organization. Anything to curry favor with her, make her believe him, make her stay. Claire was lonely and vulnerable, he knew. Her father was dead, her world was being slowly dismantled, and she sought something stable to hold on to. She’d once had Peter, but Peter was still missing in action and had been ever since he and Adam had escaped. 

Adam definitely had feelings for the girl, and they were only growing stronger all the time. He initially pondered over the nature of those feelings, but then decided it didn’t matter. Claire belonged with him, surely she knew that. Yet it was difficult for her. She was moody, taciturn, prone to fits of weeping. He liked it when she lashed out at him, though, all that fire, that emotion she kept shut inside. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he waited. There would be time for that later, he wanted it all to happen organically. He wanted her to come to him.

He must have done something right, because she did. Or maybe she was just desperately lonely. Whatever the reason, very early one morning she crawled into bed beside him, sliding between the sheets, the warmth of her body hovering—he could smell her. Tentative at first, Claire barely moved. Adam could feel the tension. Then she shifted closer, her soft breasts pressed against his back and he felt his cock stiffen in his pants. Her arm went around his waist. He heard her sigh, like she was fighting tears. She held him tighter, and he knew that he had won.

 

The following night, Adam lay awake in the cool darkness of the room, in a state of hopeful waiting. He never slept very well, and it honestly didn’t seem to matter, he never felt any sort of fatigue or fogged-over brain from lack of sleep, and he often wondered if his body actually even required it any more. He never put it to the test, though. If nothing else, sleep was blessed oblivion, however brief. 

He could hear the door open, then the sound of her feet moving softly across the floor. The bed dipped, and she climbed in, sidling up close to him. Claire seemed to be just a little bolder this time, when she pressed herself against him and draped an arm around his waist she let her hand brush his cock. At first, he wondered if it might have been an accident, but he could feel her heart speed up and then after a half-moment of hesitation she touched him again. Very softly and hesitantly. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Claire,” he said, and she jumped a little at the sound of his voice. 

“Sorry,” she said, pulling away, turning over. But she didn’t leave.

 

Things changed, after that. Claire seemed to grow a little calmer, or perhaps more resigned to her fate. She was behaving less like a dramatic teenager, and Adam saw this as a positive step. He engaged her in conversation and she actively responded, generally seeming intrigued by his insights into the world, asking him questions about the things he had seen. She began to look at him more warmly, at times even with something like awe. 

Some energy circled them, then wove itself between them, drawing them together a little more each day. 

When he told her the truth about her future, she went still and white, began to shake. But she did not cry. He was proud of her for this. 

 

The ache inside of Claire’s chest had begun to dull ever so slightly, and it was gradually being replaced by something else. She’d been vacillating from pain to numbness and back again, but as the weeks passed she found herself in a more even place. Adam was becoming like an anchor for her, her center of gravity. Just knowing that he existed, so close by, was enough to give her the energy to push through another day. That, and his assurances that the Company’s days were numbered. The thought of revenge was quite calming as well, Claire realized. 

After awhile, she realized that she was developing feelings for him, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he felt something similar. But he was _centuries_ older than her, had lived on nearly every continent, had seen things that nobody else alive had seen. And she was just a cheerleader, a girl who didn’t exactly belong anywhere. She wondered why he paid her so much attention, why he had genuinely wanted her to come with him. And then she wondered why she had. 

There was a large study in the house, with several tall bookshelves and elegant wooden furniture. Claire liked it there. The room had a quiet calm about it, and the smell of old books was comforting. Adam found her there one day, thumbing through a volume on world mythology. He sat down beside her, their knees almost touching. He spoke to her about vengeful gods with terrible punishments, hearts being eaten and boulders rolled uphill for eternity. He talked about tests, impossible tasks, mortal women who dared to be more beautiful than goddesses. And then about a young maiden who went out one day to pick flowers and found herself the Queen of the Underworld. That story…Claire loved and hated it at the same time. The sound of his voice was rather hypnotic, and soon they were closer than they had been; he had her tucked against him and was playing with the ends of her hair and she didn’t mind at all. 

He talked about gods like he understood them, like one day she would understand them, too.

 

The tension grew between them, taut to a near snapping point. Adam knew that he just needed to be patient for a little while longer. He kept hoping, kept waiting. 

And then, one evening, there she was in the doorway to his bedroom, all soft golden-tan skin and wide eyes, radiating a kind of glowing heat, like a halo. Tentative and shy, yet needy, burning. He motioned her over to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she came, pausing in front of him. He drew her close, resting his hands on her waist. He could feel her heart rate increase, saw the flush spreading over her cheeks, her chest rising heavily with her breathing. He brushed her hair behind her ear, then ran his fingers along her neck, feeling the thud of her pulse. His hand slid lower, brushing against the swell of her breast through her shirt. Claire shivered from head to toe, tried to steady her nerves as he slowly removed her clothing; piece by piece it fell away, layers being shed and landing like dying leaves. Yet there was a feeling inside of her, a strange little core like a burning coal. She recognized it, it was the feeling she got whenever she hurt herself, right before she healed: it was the impetus toward destruction, the gleeful, dark delight at the brief rush of blood, the sight of red. The pull of the Underworld.

“Come on,” he said, turning them so that they were facing the large mirror on the wall. His eyes had gone dark at the sight of her naked body. Her breath hitched as he pulled her onto his lap. Hands found her breasts, cupping and squeezing. Claire bit her lip. Adam’s hands were large and warm and she hadn’t realized that her breasts were so sensitive. West had touched her before, but that was over her shirt and it certainly hadn’t felt like this. He pinched her nipple; she jumped a little and Adam smiled. His hands swept down over her stomach and to her thigh. 

“Open,” he ordered, and Claire let her legs part. She closed her eyes. He pinched the inside of her thigh. “Look in the mirror,” he said, his voice a low rumble in her ear. Goosebumps broke out over her skin, and she forced her eyes to open, to focus on the erotic tableau in front of them. His hands crept between her legs, fingers seeking her clit. A gasp hissed in between her teeth as he began to play with the little button, creating bursts of friction and heat. 

Smiling, he increased the rhythm. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, and in response she began to rock against his hand. 

He could feel the wetness of her arousal seeping out of her, coating his fingers. The way she was squirming and rocking on his lap had him hard and aching. “Just look at yourself,” he spoke in heated tones. “Look at how wet you are, how much you love this.” 

His words were spurring her on, and it was true: the sight of her own reflection being touched like this, his fingers moving gently-insistently against her throbbing clit, her legs splayed wantonly, nipples hard little peaks—it was all arousing beyond measure. There was a fire building inside of her, pleasure climbing, rising—

She was breathing faster now, making gasping, moaning sounds that got him even harder, and he relished the pain of it. Her legs started to shake, more juices spilled out of her.

“I…” Claire whispered.

“Yes,” he urged. “Come for me.”

She cried out, pressing hard against his fingers, white-hot pleasure coursing through her, making her shudder. “Good girl,” he whispered. She leaned back against him, utterly dazed. The way she’d trembled, confused and new—

“Was that the first time you’ve ever…”

And the answering look in her eyes told him it was.

“Perfect,” Adam said, pressing a kiss against the side of her neck. He was determined to be many firsts for her. 

 

He punished her when he found her the next day with her fingers in her underwear; she’d been trying to recapture the amazing sensations he’d created in her, but it wasn’t the same. She was rubbing and panting in frustration when he’d opened the door. On some level, perhaps she’d wanted to be caught because she hadn’t locked it. His eyes had narrowed and her hand had stilled. He’d pulled her across his knee and her stomach flipped and blood raced south, butterflies lifting. He yanked down her underwear, exposing her firm little ass. “From now on, when you need touched, you come to me, do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Use words.”

“Yes.”

His hand came down, five times. Hard. She couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed it, she was whimpering and writhing shamelessly, her pussy full of tingling heat. He loved how he had clearly woken something in her, was coaxing forth a wild creature. 

“Please,” she begged, not even sure what she needed. She could feel his hard length pressing into her stomach and it made her even wetter. Two of his fingers slipped between her folds and probed gently at her slick opening.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said, pushing them inside. She was so tight, untouched. She was remarkable, really. Her body was such a miracle, and she understood pain, but not pleasure. Adam loved that he would be the one to teach her. He had so much to show her.

Claire gasped and clutched around him as he began to slowly pump his fingers in and out, a lazy rhythm that made her inner walls flutter. A few expert strokes and a twist and press on exactly the right spot had stars exploding behind her eyes.

Her body was becoming more sensitive, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. It was sensitive in a different way. Pain she’d always held close, dear. It was an old friend. Pleasure, that was something she’d never given much thought to. Not like this, anyway. She didn’t necessarily trust Adam, but he mesmerized her. They were alike. And she didn’t really trust anyone, not anymore, so it didn’t matter. This right now, with him, it felt…right, somehow. He calmed her. But, she wanted more.

 

X

 

One day, he handed her a silk bag. Inside the bag were two small spheres. They felt cool and heavy in her hand. “What?” she asked.

He explained to her what they were for, and her face went red even as she felt a pulse of heat between her legs. “I don’t know…”

“You do. You will.”

He helped push them inside of her and she clenched experimentally, sending forth a wave of shuddering pleasure. After that, he took her out to dinner. Like a date. It was a nice restaurant and she’d never been on a date like this, and she felt gawky and unsophisticated, even while wearing the dress that he’d bought for her, even having her hair and makeup done, even having these…things inside of her. It was difficult to keep them in, especially while walking. They shifted and moved inside of her, rolling and pressing, and she was sweating with the effort. He’d forbidden her to come until he said. The riot of new sensations was overwhelming. They sat down at a table and she kept her hands pressed to the glass of ice water to distract her. 

He watched as she shifted in her seat, seeking relief, her hips rocking slightly. Her pupils were dilated, lips parted. A glance down at her shirt revealed that her nipples were standing out quite prominently.

“Control yourself,” he whispered. “Be a good girl for me.”

“It’s…it feels so…intense. I need…” She was whining, babbling.

“I know what you need, love. But you must be patient.”

Claire drew in a deep breath. She didn’t think that she was going to make it, was sure that she’d fail and wind up orgasming at the table, right there in public. Why, _why_ did that thought only increase the pleasure?

She made it through dinner, and just barely made it to the car. “All right,” he whispered. He slipped a hand inside her shirt, closing over her breast and she came at the touch, her climax crashing over her, swallowing and ferocious.

 

X

 

Adam was loving the process of educating his girl, the way her body responded to him. She made him feel new, not ancient and gnarled and miserable.

When he first put his mouth on her, she practically shrieked. She knew about this sort of thing, obviously, but she’d never experienced it before. It was incredible, the way he used his tongue, the sweet scrape and flick over her clit, then delving back to dip inside, taste her. She pulled on the silk ties that held her arms to the bedposts. It didn’t take very long, in fact she came so quickly that she was almost embarrassed. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, adding two fingers, stroking them in and out while he kept on working her with his mouth, and didn’t stop until she’d lost track of her climaxes, until she was a convulsing, begging mess and tears were on her face.

After that was the first time he kissed her, let her taste herself. She was too delirious to feel shame, and she liked it.

 

He finally let her touch him, and she was eager. Fascinated by his hard length. She’d never seen one before, not like this. He was so long and thick…she felt a tingling warmth pool inside of her, her pussy aching with want. Needing; she needed that inside of her, even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt.

 

She liked the feel of him in her mouth, she decided as she sucked experimentally, swirling her tongue over the head. He gripped her hair, pulling until her scalp stung, encouraging her as he rocked up his hips, begging her to take more. Her naïve, sweet earnestness undid him, her fumbling motions unspeakably arousing as she stroked his shaft while sucking on him. She slipped a hand down between her thighs, even though she knew she’d be punished for it. It didn’t matter, though, her own fingers never did really satisfy her, she was just hoping to take the edge off.

“Claire…” he growled, a warning, and she sighed around him as she pulled her hand away. He came a few seconds later, she felt his cock twitch and then the warm pulse of seed against the back of her throat. Startled and delighted, she swallowed, felt him shiver.

 

Next came the rope. He’d shown her pictures, the intricate patterns wound around skin, some impressively complicated, and she felt herself grow wet, something that had been happening more and more lately. He’d been delighted by her interest, and her arousal. She let him wind the rope around her—the design was simple, it wound around her breasts, thrusting them forward, then down between her legs, resting right against her clit so that every time she moved it rubbed and caused a tormenting friction. He liked the way she looked, tied up for him. He’d done this before, for a few women over the centuries, but none of them looked quite as beautiful as her.

She was made out of fire, that girl. _Indomitable_ , that was a proper word for her. It was difficult to describe, exactly, how he felt. She was so like him, and yet still innocent. Marvelously pure, beneath her rage. That was the danger and allure of her.

 

Claire liked the stories he told about Japan. She pretended to be thinking of cherry blossoms when she was really thinking of swords, of sharp edges and arrows and sounds of battle—those things were more beautiful, more real. Flowers were too soft, too fragile. 

The thought of blades, glinting in the sunlight, suddenly intrigued her in a new way and she asked him if he would cut her.

“I don’t want to make you bleed any more than you already have,” Adam said. (He lied.)

“What if I said I wanted to?”

His eyes darkened. “Oh, my dear girl.” He stroked a hand along her face, relishing the softness of her skin.

 

 

A warmth went through him when he made her smile. He was erratic, sometimes. Difficult. Prone to moodiness, rants. His emotions always seemed to heighten hers. Eventually, he’d calm. He always needed her after that, had a ravenous look about him, one that heated something in her blood. Then, she’d let him whip her, cut her, squeeze her throat until she nearly passed out. Nearly.

 

“I hope the fight never goes out of you,” he said, even though he knew that it would.

Claire enjoyed that terrible edge, the one Adam always pushed her to. He saw her, didn’t treat her as fragile. Pain and pleasure were not so separate as she had once thought. No matter how he touched her, she truly _felt_ it.

 

He’d keep her on the precipice of orgasm, and she’d hover there, in that strange razor-edge satori, until she was nothing, was pure calm empty beautiful, a crystal white-noise hum.

And then he’d say, “my darling,” and push her over, screaming pleasure stabbing every nerve ending.

“Yes,” she’d say.

He was a man filled with ghosts and terrible plans. Claire knew that he had the capacity for evil deeds inside of him. Time had seen to that. Adam still believed that they were better than everyone else, still spoke about gods and mere mortals, painting their lives in a mythological context to rationalize his disdain for humanity. She tried to show him that the world could be good, could evolve. Even if sometimes she didn’t believe it herself. In dark moments she wondered if she would become like that after centuries. In even darker moments she doubted it would take that long. 

Adam was the terror of what could be. It was frightening to her, how willing to be in his arms she was, to be under his hands, at his mercy. Because despite the fear there was a kind of peace there that compelled her, it radiated outwards, flooding her cells, quieting her soul. He calmed her in the most primal way.

 

X

 

Revenge, he had once lusted after. She was something better. Still, he imagined the world burning down when he closed his eyes. Today, it was fire. Sometimes it was plague. Flood, storm, drought. Ending. It was blissful, imagining all that destruction, that ending. Things stopped, at last.

 

Then he looked at her and saw a world made new. Claire looked at Adam and saw the end of things, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. An understanding lived between them, born out of their blood.

“You’re so young,” he said, his eyes very blue as he observed her, stretched out naked on the bed, like flowers awaiting winter.

“I’m really not,” she replied, the words rather bitter-sounding.

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Give it time.” Then, “Will you stay with me, for awhile?”

“Awhile,” she echoed. She smiled and thought about knives and choices and time and pomegranate seeds and then he brought his mouth against hers.

He kissed her a little deeper, his tongue probing, seeking. He bit down gently on her lip. 

“I’m ready,” Claire whispered. There was that fragile determination again. And she _was_ , at least her body was, he could feel the soaking heat of her. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her fluttering, wild heart as the head of his cock pressed at her opening. 

“Open your eyes, darling,” Adam commanded gently, and she did. Their gazes connected and he pressed in further. At first she winced at the invasion, she had to stretch to accommodate him, and it became a wonderful sort of pain, as he moved, as she took him in. The barrier inside of her tore, and there came a brief, white-hot flash that quickly melted into a delicious burning throb.

“So _new_ ,” he said. She felt her body naturally falling into a rhythm, moving with his, trying to draw him as deep inside as he could get. 

 

X

 

It hurt every time he claimed her as his, always his. And Claire looked forward to it. It helped to ground her, to make the endless span of time in front of her (of _them_ ) to not seem so dizzying. 

“I’ve corrupted you,” he’d always say, but he didn’t seem sorry about it.

After, he held her like she was a sliver of moon, like she was spring. “You are the future,” he whispered. ( _You are my future_.)


End file.
